


One out of Four

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - General [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humour, Insults, anderson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John should have known better than to take one of their children to the Yard with him. But hey, at least he gets to hear their third child's first words ever!... It only took ten years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hamish

**Author's Note:**

> This Hamish is not like the other Hamishes.  
> This Hamish is a wizard.

”You are all complete and utter idiots.”  
      Three heads turned at once, looking for the source of the voice. Realization dawned on John that the bored and disinterested insult had not been hurled at them by his socially inept husband. It had actually been flung at them by the child sitting in the corner of DI Lestrade’s office, his curly mop of hair sticking out from beneath his fedora.  
      The normally silent, stoic ten year old sat on his chair with a folder open in his lap, studying it carefully.  
      ”That wasn’t? Was it?” Anderson asked, looking to John for an explanation.  
      “Be quiet, Anderson,” the boy snapped in that near identical voice of Sherlock’s, his words laced with annoyance. “You’re putting me off.”  
 Lestrade gave a small chuckle.  
      “Hamish!” John tried to sound angry, but failed miserably.  
      The boy looked up, blue eyes narrowed at the three adults. “Silence. I’m going to my Mind Planet and the three of you speaking will disrupt my thought processes.”  
      With that Hamish bowed his head, letting a few stray curls that weren’t trapped by his hat to fall into his eyes as he stared hard at the case file he’d sneaked away from the desk. The photos were of a brutal and rather bizarre robbery turned double homicide John had been called in to look over.  
      “…He doesn’t speak for ten years,” Lestrade said. “And the first thing he does is call us idiots.”  
      John couldn’t help it, but pride swelled in his chest then. His son’s first words. Ever. And he sounded _exactly_ like Sherlock.  
      “Anderson!” that child’s voice barked again suddenly. “Leave. The presence of your lesser intellect is dragging my IQ level down. And you smell like you’ve spent weeks in a dinosaur costume without washing.”  
      Hamish wrinkled his nose in disdain and returned to his thoughts. He did not move, he did not speak, and didn’t really do anything for three full hours.  
      After which he blinked, looked up and closed the file, said “A wizard did it. Call uncle Mycroft. I only work muggle cases.” Then he stood to drop the file on the seat of his chair.  
      He left the office to find where he’d laid his coat.  
      Lestrade sighed, turning to pick up his phone. “He’s **just** like Sherlock.”  
      John smiled. “One out of four. It was bound to happen at some point.”


	2. Angelo Tobias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John get ready for bed, but not without reading their youngest child's first letter home from Hogwarts.

John looked across the bedroom to his husband; sitting with his back pressed against the headboard. The gray haired doctor pulled on his old army t-shirt that had seen better days. But it was his favorite, and he’d taken such good care of it for so many years.  
      Sherlock didn’t even look at him, opening the thick, heavy letter he’d brought in to read before bed. John recognized the envelope and the way it had been addressed.  
      “Which one?” he asked crossing the room to crawl into bed beside him, sliding his legs up under the blankets.  
      “Hm?”  
      ”Which one of our brilliant boys has gotten into trouble this time?” It was a reasonable question for John to ask. Hamish rarely wrote, and they hadn’t gotten regular letters from Hogwarts since Harriet had decided she had to gossip to her parents about a boy she liked in fifth year.  
      Any other correspondence came in the form of disciplinary notices. Requests for a meeting to discuss whatever the latest problem their brilliant children had caused.  
      ”It’s just Angelo,” Sherlock said. “He hasn’t gotten into trouble just yet. But he reports that we should be getting a letter from the headmistress during the week. It seems Hamish has taken it upon himself to point out every single flaw in the school’s policies and practices. She doesn’t seem to be taking it very well.”  
      John smiled, reaching for the medical journal on his nightstand and pulling it into his lap. But he didn’t open it just yet.  
      ”What else does he have to say?”  
      ”He misses home and would like you to send him those multigrain muffins you make. Hamish needs more quill ink. He’s run out.”  
      John was actually surprised at this. “Already? It’s only been two weeks since they left for school.” He shook his head and gave a small sigh as he leaned closer to Sherlock. The wizard lifted his arm and draped it around John’s shoulders once he’d settled against his side.  
      “Does he say what house he was sorted into? Not that I really have to ask. We have a bit of a trend in this family.”  
      ”Hufflepuff,” Sherlock replied, a small, warm grin spreading across his face as he continued reading. It was clear their son had a way with words, as the letter home was quite rich with details and possessed a much better flow than John’s choppy blog posts.  
      John turned his head to look at his husband’s face. “Aren’t you disappointed? A Holmes not in the house of wit and learning. It’s a travesty.”  
      He felt the soft vibrations as Sherlock chuckled, stroking John’s scarred shoulder absently. “No,” he said, still reading further. Angelo had quite a lot to say on the subject of his transfigurations professor. “We’ve got a Watson in the house of the just and loyal Hufflepuffs.” Turning his head some, he pressed his lips against John’s forehead before turning his attention back to the letter. There were still eight more pages to read and he wanted to know everything his son had written to them about. “One out of four isn’t bad.”


End file.
